Dead But Not Finished
by Cry-Of-A-Warp-Engine
Summary: After being dragged into a ghost hunt, Franklin learns the truth about death... and makes a deep connection to the other side.


_'It is the secret of the world that all things subsist and do not die, but retire a little from sight and return again. Nothing is dead. People fame themselves dead, and endure mock funerals and mournful obituaries. And there they stand, looking out the window, in some new disguise. This secret must be told to the world, and they must tell it. Because they're not dead.' -Ralph Waldo Emrison_

 **5/12/1942, Brongate Manor Hospital, Mel's P.O.V**

The sound of an explosion is one that sends terror through anyone.

I wake up as a massive explosion shakes the whole hospital, seeing that my room is empty apart from me and the radio nearby. That explosion shattered the glass in the wooden door, only the metal mesh frame remaining where the glass used to be.

Then there's the smell of smoke.

"MUM! HELP! ANYBODY, PLEASE!" I scream as fire begins spreading into the room. No one can hear me over the sound of the flames.

I reach for the window but scream in pain when I knock my hand against the handle, realizing that I tried to use my right hand which is still hurting from having two fingers and my thumb blasted off in a bomb strike, a bandage around most of it but my index and ring finger are still there and exposed, though the ring finger is badly burnt.

Although it hurt me beyond my limit, I manage to unlatch and open the window... only to find that it's got a bar inside, allowing it to only open a few inches...

Nowhere near enough for me to fit through.

The flames now reach the bed, the metal frame glowing red hot on the legs. A loud crack before a loud crash tells me that part of the wooden floor has just caved in.

Think fast, and time slows down, so think fast Mel! Quicker than you ever have, this is life or death here!

I think hard and fast for a way out, twirling a few dark blonde strands of hair around my finger out of habit. Fire will burn, but if you're quick enough you can get away with just getting hot. If I be quick...

I'm small for a 16 year old, only about 4'9'' and rather light as a result. Being light could be an advantage for once, as burnt as the floor may be, there's a chance that I won't be heavy enough to break through it. The burnt floor WILL burn my bare feet and there's a high chance that the stitches in my side won't hold after the jump.

But that might be the only chance I have.

The flames reaching the mattress is all the provocation I need. I step back to the wall before taking a step across the bed and jumping...

I don't land. I only hit the floor.

The burnt black wood might have only held for another few seconds and me landing on it made the whole floor fall apart. It all seems to go in slow motion as I fall to the room underneath, seeing the bed empty. But I'm not gonna land on the bed... I'm heading right for the broken wood from where the floor caved in before... and right for a jagged iron support bar.

I scream in pain as I land, the bar stabbing right through my chest and heart. Blood is rapidly falling and I'm still screaming. I might have mere seconds left...

Mum, Dad, brother Roy... I love you all. Please, please don't forget me... remember Mel Jones, the 16 year old girl who never reached the end of her teens, your daughter and sister...

Where am I now? Everything is so dark and cold...

I look down at myself, seeing bad burns pretty much everywhere except my head, the white hospital dress with a few holes burnt into it. The stitches have gone and so has the bandage on my hand... and all is partly transparent and glowing blue...

Am I an angel? Where's God?

Or am I just an echo... a lost, damaged, broken soul...

I try to relax but I just can't... how can you rest when you know that you literally just bled out?

* * *

 **5/12/2014, Franklin's P.O.V**

"Nigga, shut your ass! We gonna be talking with the dead, it's gonna be fun!" Lamar says as the new model Albany Cavalicade sped along the A143. Yeah, we'll see about that. Ghost hunting, what happened to dealing drugs, guns and boosting cars?!

"Boys, let's just talk about what we're going to here." Fanta says. Fanta is just a nickname, his real name is Harvey but since he really hated the name, he started calling himself Fanta. A little unusual to call yourself after a drink, but we've known him by that name since we were kids.

He did drag us into this. He does this paranormal investigating as a hobby, but decided to drag me and Lamar with him to Brongate Manor Hospital in England.

"Alright dude, hit us with this history." Lamar says.

"We're going to a place called Brongate Manor Hospital. It was built in 1798 as a cotton factory. From 1798 to 1882, there were over 400 deaths inside this factory." Fanta says.

"Damn, these English were careless ones!" Lamar says. I shake my head, looking out the window as we pass a sign that read 'Norwich 5, Great Yarmouth 25, [A47]'.

"Then in 1982 it was re-owned and converted into a hospital, where there were over 1000 deaths. I think the exact figure was 1563." Fanta says. Damn... that's more than the amount of deaths me and Lamar have caused put together! "Then in 1958 it was left to rot until 1988 when it was bought again but apparently due to the high amount of activity, people have been running away from the place so the restoration has never been finished."

"So we're going to an old hospital where over 2000 deaths occurred over 200 years... damn, how can you not be a little creeped out by that?!" I say. This... is gonna be crazy.

Half an hour later, Brongate Manor Hospital.

"Right then... history walk. Tell us this history." Fanta says as we walk into the hospital with the owner, Faith.

"Well I'll take you to where we get the most claims of activity, the remains of the I.C.U." Faith says.

"Remains, is this from a fire?" Fanta says. The I.C.U must be that big hole in the side of the building on the 4th and 5th floors.

We all walk up to the 5th floor, the walls and floor black with soot and scorch marks. Faith takes us to a room but we don't enter because there's no floor there, just a big hole leading to the 4th floor room below.

"This is room 578, where Mel stayed." Faith says.

"Mel, can you... tell us a bit more about her?" Fanta says, looking down the hole at the rubble on the floor in the lower room. I move to the side a bit, seeing something that made my eyes widen in shock and horror.

"Mel Jones was 16, she was in here after a bomb exploded near her in 1942. She'd lost three fingers on her right hand... the bomb exploded three rooms up the hallway and the fire burnt through the floor until she fell through to the 4th floor where she most likely died from blood loss after that metal right there went straght through her heart." Faith says. That large stain in the wood... is that really Mel's blood?!

"Damn, so that is her actual blood on that floor and the pole?" Fanta says. I've seen a few sickening things but that is just... wow.

"Yes, that is the stain of Mel's blood. And we have the actual scene description document in the office." Faith says.

Hospital office...

"So this is the actual original description, though what's wierd is it always seems to move around and be creaced up but... here you go." Faith says, handing Fanta the 70 year old paper. He puts it down before reading it out.

 _'...The room was badly burnt and the wood from the ceiling and the floor above was everywhere. The body of Mel was mostly burnt, save for the head and right arm, the hand of which was missing three fingers. There was a heavy amount of fallen blood pooled around her, at least 2 thirds of all her blood was outside the body. The most disturbing part was the metal bar which had impaled her through her chest, part of the heart actually on the end of it...'_

"Damn, this shit real crazy!" Lamar says. I need a moment to catch my breath... that was just horrible. How is it right for a kid to die like that?!

"Listen... you go on, I need some air." I say before walking downstairs, stopping as I hear a sound from a nearby room. It sounded like something being dragged across the floor...

I enter the room, seeing the old wooden display cabinet full of medical jars, shifted across the floor to the middle of the room, the colour of the wall not faded where the cabinet had been.

"Hello?" I say loudly, stepping further into the room... I jump back in fright as the window quickly swings open, hitting against the brick wall outside. Screw this, I'm going back to the truck and getting a drink!

 **Mel's P.O.V**

Franklin runs out of the room, heading outside and getting in the car. I'm sorry... I didn't want to scare you, I just wanted you to know that I'm here.

72 being dead could easily turn people crazy, and believe me, it has to many in the past. I'm surprised I've stayed sane this long...

All I was was an injured 16 year old kid in a hospital bed. I didn't deserve to die, the worst thing I ever did was push my brother's face into a cherry bakewel pie! Why did I have to die? How long do I keep doing this...

Forever?


End file.
